


Chungking Mansions

by minsfirstlove



Category: Chungking Express (1994), The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Chungking Express - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Police Officer!Changmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsfirstlove/pseuds/minsfirstlove
Summary: In which a young police officer grabs the attention of a quirky snack bar worker in one the most crowded place in the world.
Relationships: Ji Changmin | Q/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. Summer Fever

Summer hangs hot and heavy over Chungking Mansions.

He feels the parts of his body become fuzzy, even though he finally removed his mask and glasses—too fucking hot for this summer. He slowly succumbs into the humid air that clings to every surface. Every part of him throbs with excess pressure. He exhales through his mouth, slowly pushing the breath out from his lungs. But when he is forced to inhale, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, the wet air tastes even more suffocating than before.

_It is too hot to breathe._

Just sitting here, sprawled out on a bench in the snack shop, he has worked up a sweat. The salty liquid doesn't evaporate from his skin because the air is already too crowded with humidity. It collects on his thighs where they rest on the wood of the bench, it soaks into the fibers of his clothing.

_It is too hot to touch._

And it is certainly, _definitely_ , too hot for the way his heart rate increases when she sits beside him.

In this closeness, the air thickens further with something that he can't pinpoint. It's kind of not fair how the heat rests over her, sweat kissing her sun-touched skin and gliding along her white thin blouse. She seems immune to the heat that is holding him down.

He has continued to visit her snack shop from time to time, the other customers recognize him, know that the bench closest to the shop window is unofficially his. They know that he will smile and nod politely, even if words stumble across his tongue, she had taught him that a smile is better than a hundred words. It relieves, somewhat, his fear of unintentionally annoy her at her work.

Suddenly, she reached out to flick a bead of sweat from his brow. He closes his eyes and huffs.

_It is definitely too hot for her teasing._


	2. Paper Napkins

She is in a complicated relationship with this city. Eyesore, _ghetto_ , jungle, goldmine, little countries. These are all words that have been used to describe it, a building complex that is seen as both a foreign island in Hong Kong and an important part of the Chinese city's identity. The world seems to become smaller in here, as people from all around the world gather around to make money. There are people walking everywhere, on every street and corner. But the energy of this city is resplendent and exciting at the same time. The vibe is fun and festive, all day long.

But also, she truly hates the heat that comes brusquely every monsoon. It always feels suffocating, especially when the sticky humid air envelops her every time she works at his uncle's snack shop.

She wants to see the world; seeing the Eiffel tower with her own eyes, walking through the snow of Alpen mountains, falling in love with a stranger inside the New York City Subway, and so on. It's all started when she saw a flight commercial on tv when she was younger. She couldn't help it, the flight attendants were gorgeous, looking tall and beautiful, showing the best smile they can give for the passengers, while also strutting around in their pretty low-heeled shoes. That's why she almost explodes with joy when her distant families—all across the country—called her to say that they will provide for her living expenses there, only if she manages to pass the flight attendant's job requirement. Practically, she is beaming with excitement while working in her usual snack shop. She's unaware of the fact that her behavior piques one's interest in the form of a young guy that's always been there, claiming his usual spot while sitting on a bench.

"Did you just win a lottery?"

"What?" She can't hear him clearly, busy humming to _California Dreamin'_ that was boosted by the old radio.

"I said, did you just win the lottery? You look extra...electrified today."

"Is that a bad thing?" She asks, tilting her head to the right.

Hardly adjusting to the summer heat, he fans himself with his hands, he answers. "No. Just curious."

It's always been like this. He will come every afternoon to eat at her snack shop. He will order the same thing every single day, enjoying the meal while sometimes steals a glance or two to her. And after eating, he'll light up a cigarette, trying to release all the stressful parts of his day. Both enjoying their own peaceful routine in this chaotic place. _Maybe she will miss this humid snack shop in the future._

Suddenly, she mumbles to herself; _does she even know what he does for a living?_ The only thing that she knows is he is a staff in the nearest Police Department because he once showed up with the usual police uniform. _But isn't he too young for that?_ She stops herself from thinking too much—it's not her business anyway.

"Thanks for the meal." Suddenly he stands up, grinning lightly while giving her a few dollars. She nods, feeling a little disappointed that this might be her last time seeing him. 

"Do you have any paper napkins?" She jolts from her thoughts, quickly rumbling through the mess of the kitchen, and at the last minute, she freezes. _This is my last chance_. She gathers up her courage, writing her name and numbers on the napkin with big, bold letters.

"Here."

"Thanks." He is unaware of the writings on the paper napkin, folding and putting it quickly inside his pocket. And while showing his charming dimples, he smiles for the last time.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, too."

And she stands there, watching as he walks out of her sight. _Call me, please_ , she thinks in silence. 


	3. California Dreamin'

It's been a year since he got that damned paper napkin.

Until now he still can't decipher the numbers written on the paper napkin, _is that a zero or an eight?_ To be honest, he had called every possible combination of numbers he could think of, but zero, zip, _zilch, nada_. Nothing happened. The only information that he could gather from the owner of the snack shop was that she is living abroad now, leaving him with a sense of emptiness inside.

Wrinkled and water-stained, now the paper sheet is pinned to a wood board back in his restaurant's kitchen. Yes, _his_ restaurant.

Sweats dripped from his eyebrows while he was busy painting the wall, preparing for the final steps of opening his new restaurant. _This is what I've chosen to do_ , he muses to himself. His morals were tired of the dirty politics inside the world of fighting for justice, so he resigned from his old job in the Police Department. He knew he was not exactly a field officer that deals with the problems arising from drug dealers and illegal businesses, but still, all the bureaucracy slowly drove him mad. So here he is, exchanging his uniform days with white t-shirts, hoping all of these new choices in life will pay him back in the future.

But today, a storm comes back to his life.

The sound of rusty rolling doors moving startles him, showing the figure of a young woman wearing a flight attendant attire. It's _her_.

"Why are you here?"

He remains speechless, couldn't believe his own eyes. Dressed up in a white and dark blue uniform, she stands in front of him, wearing a confused expression on her face. Her hair is longer and tied up in a neat bun, the freckles on her face are now covered by light makeup, but she remains beautiful as he can remember.

"It's you!" He finally lets out something from his mouth.

"Of course, it's me. What are you doing here?"

He laughs, the most heartfelt laugh he could let out in months. The sight of his familiar dimples pulls something inside her heart.

"I'm refitting this place. I'm going to change it into a restaurant."

"You bought this place?" She walks closer, checking all the remains from her memories working here.

He jumps down from the ladder, stepping carefully towards her. "After you left, first the owner sold me fish and chips from this snack shop, and then he wanted to let go of the whole shop."

She replies with an _oh_ and nods repeatedly. Meeting him again was the last thing she could expect, her heart isn't ready for this.

'When will you go back? This place is opening soon." He keeps on staring her intensely, afraid that this sight is just an illusion.

"I...don't know. The next flight might be quite long."

Tapping his fingers on the surface of the bench, he replies. "Send me letters, then."

"You didn't even call me." She sulks, looking straight back at his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I really am." He steps back to the kitchen and comes back with the paper napkin on his hands. "I couldn't read the numbers. Is it a zero or an eight?"

Her eyes widen, shocked by the fact that he still keeps it after all this time. "It's an eight."

He quickly rewrites the numbers on a new sheet of paper napkin, and he puts back the pen inside his pocket.

"Hey. Wanna get some food?"

"Where do you want to go?"

That delightful smile comes from him again, making her heart flutters for the umpteenth time.

"Wherever you will take me." 


End file.
